


Overdrive

by captainxero



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, SO MUCH JENNAKTA FLUFF, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainxero/pseuds/captainxero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything hurts when Nakta performs and he can't handle the noise and the lights, but Jenissi can, and so he tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overdrive

**Author's Note:**

> Alas I have written more JenNakta (my weakness tbh)  
> As a little warning, this deals with sensory overload and it's possible this could be triggering, so heed warning with this.  
> I'm not really good with describing my experience with hypersensitivity and the such as an autistic myself, but I sort of tried and also made autistic!Nakta a headcanon with my usual fluffy JenNakta. And I can't say the way I portrayed it is how everyone sees sensory overload or what another person with autism is like, but this is comes from how I personally experience sensory overload and my autism, so don't take any offense or believe I mean anything harmful, because I don't. God, ok, long notes aside and me rambling for no reason, it's JenNakta xD

No matter how many times people asked Yoonchul to explain why he felt overwhelmed after every single performance, he couldn't put it in words. He didn't know how to put it in words that the constant flashing lights were like having a lamp burning near your eyes for hours, or how to explain that every single noise of music blaring into his ears was a lot worse than standing right beside an ambulance when the siren is turned on.

It would have helped if he could put an idiom, a figure of speech, something to the feeling. He could relate it to experiences in the past, but he didn't think that they would understand if he tried to explain that he could hear someone whispering in another room but the sound of breathing, which he could hear even if he was listening to music through headphones, triggered him quite a bit. He'd tried it before during MyDol to one of the guys, and they didn't believe that he was telling the truth. He knew, well he was pretty sure of it, that Topp Dogg would believe him, but he still didn't bring those things up.

But it did hurt. Yoonchul was shaking after just having to be on stage for less than four minutes for one song. Every step he took going off stage, the more the bursts of lights and throbbing sounds flashed through his mind. The distinguishable sounds of the song began to melt in his mind, where he could no longer remember what words he'd sang or what the song sounded like for real - it was nothing but a blob to him, he couldn't remember the details, only the feeling of blaring in his ears. He could remember how bright the lights were and how they burned at his eyes, but not what color they were or what direction they hit him, only how miserable they made him feel.

The scene of the backstage was just as fuzzy as the details. No longer could his eyes pick out what color the walls were or the details of the chairs in the room or the people floating in and out of doors and halls. He could pick out lots of blurs of color, seemingly all dark colors, but he couldn't find a face in the blur. Everything was fuzzy, like he would faint at any moment, because the world disappeared to his eyes, except for the sudden flashes of lights that made him flinch and rub his eyes like that would make it stop. His head felt like it was hidden in a bubble, the best metaphor for the feeling he'd learned through articles on autism, and the sounds were trapped inside. Inside of his little bubble, the sounds were echoed and much louder than he perceived them without being overstimulated. Yoonchul was unable to currently pick out any distinguishable words or phrases, it all sounded like mindless screeching, no words, only syllables. And it was equally as loud, as if someone was leaning in his face and screaming right at him.

He wasn't even sure of where he was walking, but it was as if he remembered the layout of whatever broadcast he was at. He didn't remember anymore, but his mind also seemed to know what it was doing, and he found himself dizzily hanging in an empty corner of the room all by himself. His fingers slipped into his hair, his palms covered his ears, but everything still blared around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and locked himself in the comforting darkness with all the noise still going. But the lights were gone, and it was enough to stop the memories of flashing lights in his eyes. People were still talking, and he could hear other miscellaneous sounds he was too overstimulated to pick out. The noise was too much that nothing sounded normal anymore, it was all distorted and whacked out. Yoonchul, albeit in sensory pain, found a familiar voice in the crowd of sounds building in his mind.  
"Let's go out in the hallway. It's nice and quiet. Here, give me your hand."  
He obeyed without a doubt and let go of his ears, letting his hands fall to his side. A small hand curled into his own and squeezed it tightly, not letting go, and by the sheer feeling of soft skin with a smooth texture, he knew it was Taeyang. 

He didn't question the clear voice he heard, or the texture of his skin - it was Taeyang, the only person he really liked to let touch him. Yoonchul didn't like the way people's skin felt, but strangely, Taeyang's didn't bother him. And it helped that Taeyang had learned what Yoonchul liked and what he didn't: he hated light touches, but he liked the firmness of something such as another person squeezing his hand.

And he let Taeyang guide him out of the cacophony.

It wasn't cured immediately. It never was, but slowly, the calmness of the hallway soothed Yoonchul, along with Taeyang's hand still holding onto his own. Yoonchul focused on that instead of anything else, he tended to focus on Taeyang, actually. He could sense, as the overstimulation died down gradually, different things in the hallway. The lights were dim, much dimmer than on stage or in the backstage rooms. The floor was a dark tile, a dirty gray like dish water. The walls were a contrasting white color that the light reflected off of a little and bounced onto the tile, and that bothered Yoonchul a little, that the floor and walls weren't of the same color. But Taeyang never changed. He sat there on the floor, even if Yoonchul was aware on experience that they both would get yelled at for sitting on the floor and getting their costumes dirty, and Taeyang did the same thing: held Yoonchul's hand and carried on a one-sided conversation until Yoochul became verbal again.

Yoonchul had unfocused on Taeyang talking because of the past noise, it still rang through his brain and made him shudder in pain. He opened his eyes after a few minutes of seeing the darkness of his closed eyelids and sensed the relief of the feeling that everything was quieter and calmer, less bright and not as overwhelming. His eyes darted around, finding that the blurriness had faded and the loss of color was back to sensing the full picture. His eyes noticed things he hadn't seen before: the light switch turned off, and that some of the members were hanging out on the other end of the hallway. The colors of some of their outfits hurt his eyes, so he turned away and found Taeyang still sitting there at his left side.

Taeyang smiled, the same adorable dimples making little indentations in his cheeks, "Do you want a hug?"  
"Y-yeah..."  
Taeyang extended his hands, giving Yoonchul another moment to tell him no or let him, and when he received no protest from Yoonchul, he curled his arms around his chest and squeezed him a little. Yoonchul's heart throbbed a little at the comfort such a squeeze gave him. He leaned his head down and stayed with Taeyang's arms around him for a while, trying not to listen to the painful noises of Taeyang's breathing, but he could also tell Taeyang was trying his best not to be very loud, as he sounded as if he were trying to hold his breath.  
Taeyang turned his head away, exhaling as silently as he could before he returned to hugging him again.  
"Ok, that's enough, it's getting uncomfortable," Yoonchul froze and wiggled his way out of Taeyang's grip. He wasn't much sure how to tell him it was a little too long for a hug, and if it were to last that long that he'd prefer it to be named a cuddle instead. The definition between the two confused him a bit, though, so he didn't bring it up in fear that he'd end up confused more than he feared saying the wrong thing.  
Taeyang laughed quietly, nodding his head, "Sorry." He smiled a little, though, as he didn't mind the sudden interruption, "But anyway, everything's ok?"  
"Everything's ok," Yoonchul repeated. 

He was silent for a moment, processing everything that had just happened and ended. It racked at his brain quite a bit and in a sense, he was still overwhelmed. And unfortunately, he always would be.

After thinking it over, his eyes shifted around slowly and focused back on Taeyang. He didn't look him in the eyes directly, he usually didn't, and instead left his gaze somewhat directed towards Taeyang's lips. He saw the makeup masking the dryness of them that gave a slight peach colored sheen...but that wasn't his point, and Yoonchul almost hit his head on the wall for changing his thought process. A bit of a tingle spread across his skin, as if he were thinking of some sort of body language to use, and a little grin cracked along Yoonchul's lips and his eyes glittered when he'd thought over his actions. His heart beat faster and faster while he held the same facial expression until he had confirmation - confirmation that he'd done the right thing.  
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Taeyang responded, his face brightening once more, "And that...that's the smile that makes me smile."


End file.
